“I failed spectacularly at that pottery class I took last year,” she finally admitted. “The walls on my bowls were always uneven. I have a terrible sense of direction. If I have to drive more than ten miles, I almost inevitably get lost. And I can’t whistle to save me life.”
To prove her point, she pursed her lips and winced when the air she pushed through her mouth sounded like a deflating rubber balloon.
He grabbed the casing above the door with both hands and leaned forward. As always, the move caused his shirt to ride up and reveal the trail of curly brown hair that started at his navel and disappeared into the frayed waistband of his jeans.
Desire bloomed at her center like a hot flower.
“Oh, yes.” The light in his eyes turned teasing. “I stand corrected. Not sure how you’ve made it this far in life without bein’ able towhistle.”
Since she couldn’t erect a physical barrier between them—after all, they lived and worked together—she decided she had to get good at erecting emotional barriers.
There’s no time like the present.
“Is there something you needed, Fish?”
“Just reckoned I should check in on ya.” He dropped his arms and stepped into the room. To her astonishment, he flopped down on the bed with his hands laced behind his head. As he stared at the ceiling, he added, “Ya know, just in case ya needed someone to keep ya company until ya fell asleep. Like last night.”
Former Eliza would’ve jumped at the opportunity to spend another evening held in his arms.
“I think the worst of the shock has passed,” she assured him, proud that Current Eliza was able to ignore the temptation. “I’ll be okay on my own.”
“Ya sure?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’d be happy to offer a little more…distraction.”
She’d been sitting on the edge of the bed watching him over her shoulder, but that had her turning so she could fully face him. The flush on his cheeks, the overbright shine of his eyes, and the way his drawl seemed more pronounced had a lightbulb blazing to life above her head.
“Sayshe sells seashells by the seashore,” she demanded.
“What?” His dark eyebrows pinched together. “Why?”
“Humor me.”
He shrugged indifferently. “She shells she shells by the she shore.” He frowned and tried again. “She shells she shells by the she shore.” Shaking his head he asked, “Was that right?”
“No.” She pointed to his nose. “Are you drunk?”
He grinned impishly and held his thumb and his forefinger an inch apart. “Just enough to take the edge off.”
“Take the edge offwhat?”
“Off knowin’ I could have ya if I weren’t me and you weren’t you.”
That canker on her heart was burning again. “Fish, we’ve been through all this. I guarantee the subject isn’t going to improve with repetition.”
“Hear me out.” He lifted a finger in the air. She’d always loved how long and knobby-knuckled his fingers were. “The way I figure it, we’ve been lookin’ at this thing all wrong.”
“Have we?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “But the bourbon cleared my head.”
“Mmm.” She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Because that’s usually how bourbon works.”
“No, seriously. It gave me an epifoamy.” He frowned and corrected. “I mean an epiphany. Hear me out.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that nothing good ever came out of a bottle of bourbon, but he plowed ahead.
“See, ya don’t want to be just another notch on my bedpost ’cause you’re not a one-night stand kinda gal. And I can’t give ya the great, big BKI love you’re lookin’ for. But there’s something we haven’t considered.”
“Oh…kay,” she allowed hesitantly.
